


A Date With Death

by Kyootori



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyootori/pseuds/Kyootori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was basically the Expiration Date video, which is where the story starts. Instead of following Scout's final hours, the story follows Reader as she makes sure all the things she's wanted to do are done. </p><p>Eventual nsfw, but otherwise it's clean!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Clock Is Ticking

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, but this first chapter is just putting the first scene of Expiration Date into words! Don't worry though, it gets better!
> 
> Also, apologies for any self-indulgent lines I had put in there. Do feel free to ignore them or change them around so the situation fits yourself or your character better. To add on to this mess, sorry for any accent errors. Spy's accent is a bit hard to carry since it differs in both official videos. @w@
> 
> BUT. Enjoy, regardless of it all!

The light of the evening sifts through the shades, creating what small amount of vision I need to wipe my gear clean. I sit at the table in the lounging area, cloth rag to the lenses of my goggles, in my typical outfit. I occasionally glance towards the dim digital watch on my wrist. At the thought of the item’s significance, I shudder and begin to tap my foot in an attempt to drive away the thought. Not long after I set my eye-wear upon the round table, most of my colleagues begin to file into the room, as I had done directly after being instructed to.

A few of the men exchange wary looks with me, others shuffle around me to lean against the wall. Spy finds his way to the opposite, more clear, side of the table and places a metal pail on the table. Scout and Demo both lean into the table, arms laying on the surface for support. Heavy sits further back between the two and Sniper and Pyro linger near him. Every item on the table leaps an inch or so as Soldier slams his hands down, showing full attentiveness. 

The entire room feels dreary as Spy’s eyes sweep the crowd. He raises a hand to remove the cigarette from his mouth and gestures to the pail, “Zis is a bucket.” 

“Dear God..,” Scout smirks at Soldier’s need to respond. 

“Zere’s more,” Spy places a hand on the table, leaning a bit lower. 

Soldier mimics this action before straightening out, “No!” Spy straightens himself before raising a brow at this. 

Shaking it, he continues, “It contains ze dying wish of every man and woman ‘ere. Scout, you did collect everyone’s dying wish?” 

Scout quickly nods and gives a pathetic salute, “You bet!” 

A smirk crosses Spy’s features, “Excellent. Gentleman, synchronize your deathwatches.” At that, everyone raises an arm to click the small button on the watches Engineer had given us. I stare at my own watch for a moment, watching as the numbers fall lower from 70:00:00. 

It’s only then that I realize Spy is pacing around ‘his’ half of the table, “We ‘ave seventy ‘ours to live. For most men, no time at all,” his pacing soon becomes a loop as he makes his way through the group. “We are not most men,” Spy places a hand on Heavy’s shoulder, though it lingers for only a moment. “We are mercenaries! We have ze resources, ze will, to make zese ‘ours count!” He stops beside Soldier and looks between each member with a smile. “Ze clock is ticking, gentleman.” 

It’s silent as the group takes in his words, but Spy breaks the silence he’s created, “Let’s begin.” He pulls a card from the pail and begins to read it, “Our first dying wish is Scout’s,” Spy gestures towards said man with an enthusiastic look to him. 

The look quickly fades to a much more disgusted one, “ ‘e’s.. Drawn a picture of me getting hit by a car. I ‘ave.. Something radiating off of me.” His brows raise in question, as if he actually cares to know. 

Scout smirks and scoots forward, jabbing a finger towards the card, “Yeah, those are stink lines,” he turns to the men behind him, “that’s why the car hit ‘im, because he smells.” 

“Yes, I see.” Spy looks more unamused than ever as he picks up another card. “ ‘ere you ‘ave drawn me ‘aving sexual congress with ze Eiffel Tower.. Eiffel Tower ‘aving sexual congress with me.. Both of us relaxing post coitus..” The cards flutter to the table as he breezes through them. 

Scout chuckles at Spy's reaction to each, but it seems no one else is very amused. 

Spy mutters something as he looks at another card before tossing it down, “Did anyone besides Scout put a card into ze bucket?” We’re speechless aside from Scout praising himself. “Fantastic, zis was a ‘uge waste of my time.” 

“You did not read mine!” Soldier holds a card up, his name written sloppily across the backside. 

Spy simply sighs, rolling his head, “Does it say you want ze bucket?” 

“Yes!” Spy nudges the pail across the table, allowing Soldier to take it into his arms protectively. 

The others begin to file out of the room and I can’t help but to think of my own card. I had simply written that I wish to see my dog at home one last time, but it feels so minimal now that I think about it. I trail out behind the guys, thinking on more things to do before I die. 

“See you all in hell!” Spy shouts after the group. I twist, sliding between Medic and his cart and the wall. Beside Medic is Engineer, both pushing carts full of the test subjects. More than likely, they’re attempting to solve the tumor problem that has everyone here sentenced to death. 

The crew seems to take it well, the only one showing any worry about the whole situation being Spy. Yet I feel like crumpling right here and crying. I can’t though, I have to do everything I’ve wanted to do for a long time.


	2. Travel Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thanks for coming back for another chapter! Once again, apologies for any self indulgent bits of the story, screwed up spelling/grammar, or awkward accents.
> 
> Enjoy, nonetheless!

My thoughts are clouded with the obnoxious sounds that emit from the building. It’s difficult to really imagine what I want while surrounded by such noises. I quicken my pace and soon find myself in the tower outside the main building. I don’t tend to come here without Sniper, since it’s like our special place, but I need it more than ever now.

I move to the balcony and sit with my legs between the wooden bars, dangling over the edge. I press my forehead to the one between my legs and close my eyes. Reaching into my pouch, I tug out a pen and the card I wrote my dying wish on. I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes, but I nonchalantly brush them away, sniffling the tears that dare to follow away. I take the heat of the moment and jot down a handful of things to do before dying. Sighing, I set the card aside and stare into the distance. 

How could the others handle this so well? Maybe it was the fact that they’ve experienced death limitless times. Except this time, there would be no respawn. 

I scold myself for wasting time like this and push myself up, grabbing the card on my way. I brush myself off and turn around, promptly bumping into who I can only assume is Sniper. Glancing up, I confirm my assumption and step back, apologizing. His face is expressionless as he follows suite, giving me a bit of room. 

“What’re you doin’ up here?” 

I feel silly about my reason now and try to mask it. “I was just getting some air. Hard to think without privacy,” it’s not a complete lie, but it isn’t the complete truth either. It makes me feel guilty, lying to someone I care for so dearly, but he doesn’t seem to be affected by the whole situation, so he probably thinks it’s silly to worry. 

It’s hard to tell through his yellow-tinted glasses, but I watch as his eyes seemingly fall on the card in my hand. Hoping my guess is wrong, I cross my hands behind my back, hiding the card from sight. 

“What’s ‘at then and why’re ya ‘oidin’ it?” I frown and unfold my hands, holding the card out to him. Sniper always seems to see right through my facades, so there’s no point in holding it. 

“I guess I’m not ready to die.. So, I have to do those things before that time comes.” I stand awkwardly as he takes the card and reads through my embarrassing list. I feel my cheeks heat up as he smirks at what I wrote. I mentally slap myself for stuttering, “I-It’s nothing special, but I need to do those things. It’s only right.” 

Sniper finally hands it back to me, the smirk still present, “Sounds loike somethin’ a ‘opeless teenage girl would wroite.” 

“Hey, I’m serious about this!” I move closer and punch his shoulder playfully. The marksman chuckles before I continue, “Don’t you have any goals like that? Even if it’s something small?” 

I raise an eyebrow as he walks past me to the balcony. I follow and lean forward to look at him. He stares off silently before looking down at his arms on the railing. “Sure, I do. Don’t mean I’m gonna chase after ‘em in the next three days though.” Scanning him, Sniper starts to look less playful and more solemn. 

“Why not? Don’t you want to feel contempt at death? Or even just know you got all of those emotions off your chest?” I feel invasive, but I suppose that’s my job as his close friend. 

He simply shrugs, brushing the topic of himself away and directing it back at me, “Prob’ly live a ‘ell of a lot more if I just follow you.” His smirk was present once again. 

“You want to come with me to do these..?” My eyes widen slightly before I return the smirk, “I thought you said these were things only hopeless teenage girls would write.” 

“Didn’t say they aren’t. I’m sayin’ there’s no way you’re leavin’ alone for three days.” 

I swear my heart skips a beat at the thought of being with him for the last days of my life. The painfully delicious sensation fades as I remember it’s only as friends and that it’s a sort of protection case. 

“There’s not much time to waste, then.” My previous smirk is now a gentle smile as I push away from the railing and head back into the tower. Sniper lingers at the balcony for a moment, then makes his way over to me as I begin down the stairs. 

Once redressed for the trip, I attempt to pull my motorcycle from the side building. I hardly use the vehicle due to being with Mann Co. for nearly half of my (insert an age) years. It’s hard to tug it out from the piles of crap surrounding it and there’s nearly no way I’ll get it out on my own. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat causes me to release the bike and turn. Sniper stands outside the garage with a fist raised to his mouth. He tucks the hand in his pocket, the other hand jingling a set of keys to the side. 

“I know your ride is quite the beaut, but I think we’re goin’ to take moine.” 

I wade through the piles of junk and dust myself off, “You’re sure?” The marksman nods, tugs his hat down a bit more, and starts off towards said ride. I trail after him and stop at his side. His hazel eyes glance to the side, at me, as he gestures towards the passenger side, tugging the door open. 

I smile and move to get in, “Thanks.” Sniper merely nods and heads to the other side to get in. 

I tug the seat belt down across my chest, waiting for the gentle click that signals it’s fastened correctly. My eyes fall to my lap as I wait to get on the road. There is no soft click from his side as the engine roars to life. The van pulls out from where it was parked and rolls down the worn path.


	3. Bork Bork!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is strongly based around my own character, so either use your imagination a bit or skip the chapter(s?). Sorry that this one is so heavy with the influence of my own character ;w; 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy regardless!

There isn’t really a pathway to the gate, but it’s been drove over enough that there’s a clear indent.

It’s quiet for a bit before he breaks it, “Which do y’ plan to do first?” His eyes stay glued on the road, but he’s genuinely interested.

I take the card out of my jacket’s pocket and look over it.

‘-See my dog one more time

-Star Gaze

~~-Fall In Love~~

-Confess

-Make Love

-See fireworks

-Watch the sunset

-Have one last dance

-Say goodbye to friends’

“I guess an easy place to start is to head home and see my dog again.” I shrug slightly and stuff the card in my pocket again.

Sniper smiles approvingly, “Roight then, to Melbourne.” He’s practically memorized the way there due to the amount of times the two of us have snuck out just to see the gorgeous town.

Thankfully, he’s a good driver despite the ridiculous speeds he pushes the old van to at times.

The van’s dashboard has been changed once again. Instead of the typical bobble-head figure and ashtray, the dashboard held the same ashtray and a mess of feathers and pastel flowers. I furrow my brows at this, but don’t speak my thoughts. The wall behind the seats is still littered with posters and prints reflecting his career. They suit him well, I think.

“So,” Sniper starts, “what’s your pooch loike?”

Torn from my thoughts, I go back to them to think on my answer a bit. “Bear’s a Tibetan Mastiff, so he’s pretty big.. If he’s anything like he used t’ be, he’s a cuddler. A slobbery one, at that.” I knit my brows, a grin still present.

Removing a hand from the steering wheel, Sniper nudges me playfully, “He’s loike you, then?”

There’s a grin plastered to his face and I giggle in response, “I don’t slobber all over the things I cuddle!” The conversation continues on teasingly, but all in good fun, until we pull in the driveway to my old home after a bit of directing.

I stare at the massive building lovingly, yet somewhat disheartenedly. It’s been roughly ten years since I’ve laid eyes on the building.

Sure, Sniper and I have stopped by the town before, but we had never bothered to stop by my home.

My expression quickly dies and I pray that Bear is around. There was no one to take care of him when I had first gained my job as a mercenary and so it was an even harder breakup when I had to leave the gigantic pup behind. Thankfully, Bear was the type of pup that was always up for a game of chase with the small creatures around the household.

Reminiscing about my time with Bear creates an even tougher barrier to break. I can hear Sniper pull the keys out as I unbuckle and open the door to step out.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I move towards the front door cautiously. Tears well up like before, and this time I don’t stop them. The van doors slam shut behind me and the gravel cracks under Sniper’s boots as well.

I reach out for the door’s handle, but don’t open it. I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready for this yet. A hand is placed on my shoulder and I turn to see Sniper’s gentle smile. I know he’s concerned, but the remedy for my emotions is one I don’t want to start due to fear of it having to end.

Turning the handle, I push the door open and enter my home.

Now feels like the moment I would say something along the lines of “Everything is just how I remember it”, but it’s not because I don’t remember any of the dusty intricate paintings that line the walls. I don’t remember the ragged linen curtains that cover the windows or the dull ornamental glasses that decorate the tables.

I move to the center of the main room and call out for my hound.

Nothing.

I bite down on my lip, waiting a bit to call out again.

Still nothing.

I make my rounds through the house, shouting my pup’s name into the next room and down halls only to get silence. Feeling defeated, I slump my shoulders a bit, a sad look taking over.

Without a word, Sniper taps my shoulder and gestures to the ceiling. I rush to the bottom of the stairs and call up, ready to repeat the rounds on the upper floor.

This time, I get a low bark in return.

“Bear!” I nearly sob his name out as I bound up the winding staircase only to be knocked down by the enormous dog I love so much.

I prop myself up on my elbows and let myself become covered in drool from the dog kisses. Bear laps at the tears that stain my face, barking between every set of kisses.

“God, it’s been so long.. I missed you, buddy, I missed you..” I choke out my words, gasping between them.

I don’t even notice that Sniper has come up the steps as well until his arms are lifting me from my position on the floor. The patch of fur that I’m against is now damp.

“I thought.. I thought..” Sniper raises a hand to rub my head gently as I struggle to find my words.

I hardly think about how out of character the gesture is as I pull away from the embrace and smile weakly, “I’m glad that he’s here.” I scratch Bear’s chin and use the other hand to cup his cheek.

Bear whimpers, pushing into my hand. He tenses beneath me, his beady eyes set upon the hand Sniper has left atop my head.

After a few more minutes of patting and scratching Bear, I stand, causing Sniper’s hand to fall back to his side.

“I can’t just.. Leave him again.” Now that I have a good view of Bear, his fur is matted and dusted. His head hangs low as he whimpers once again.

Frowning, I turn to Sniper. A hand is raised to adjust the way his glasses sit on his nose and the other is tucked into his pocket. “Could bring ‘im with us, back to the base. Not loike any a the blokes would care.”

Bear nudges my palm with his muzzle and barks before bounding down the stairs.

I feel uneasy at the thought of Bear coming home with me, “I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your space by bringing Bear with-” He promptly interrupts my train of thought by taking my hand and starting off down the stairs.

“ ‘e’s as welcome as you are, Sheila.” I grasp his hand in return and smile, even if he can’t see it.


	4. Diner For Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is SUPPOSED to be 'Diner' and not 'Dinner'. It'll make sense, trust me.

Sniper turns to me as I finish snapping my seat belt in place, “What’s next then?” He leans back and places his arms behind his head as I take the card out along with a pen. I swiftly cross out the now finished goal of seeing Bear once again.

‘ ~~-See my dog one more time~~

-Star Gaze

~~-Fall In Love~~

-Confess

-Make Love

-See fireworks

-Watch the sunset

-Have one last dance

-Say goodbye to friends’

I tap my pen against the card, gritting my teeth. It doesn’t feel right to do any of these at the current time.

“We go for lunch?” When I look over to him, his hat is tilted at such an odd angle that it’s nearly falling off his head. He raises an eyebrow at my words and glances at his deathwatch, forgetting it’s not his actual watch. Sniper lowers his arms, leaning forward to start the van and check the time on the digital clock within it. It reads 3:12. He raises an eyebrow again.

I shrug slightly, “It’s not exactly lunch and it isn’t dinner either, but I don’t want to take away the time I need during the night to do the things I want.”

He nods and reaches up to tug his hat back to its proper position. The car begins to rumble as it comes to life and his hands fall to the wheel.

The drive is similar to the last, being filled with idle chatter and the occasional laugh. It has been decided that Sniper will choose the place we eat at, but I inform him I refuse to let him pay for me.

When we reach the diner, my eyes become stuck on the neon lights that form the restaurant’s name. It’s a cute little place called DineRite and, while I personally have never been to the diner, I trust Sniper’s judgement.

It’s decorated in black and white, its neon lights glowing red. I quickly hop out and move around the side of the van to tug open the back doors. Bear lifts his head slightly from his position on the back bench.

“We’ll be right back, buddy, promise.” His head goes back to resting on his forelegs as I close the doors again.

Sniper has already started walking towards the building’s entrance and I do the same, speed-walking to catch up.

An upbeat tune with a rather loud saxophone segment flows through the restaurant, setting the mood, as we enter. Sniper slides into a booth and I take a seat beside him. He picks up the menu on the table, raising it between us to share, but my mind is somewhere else at the moment.

Looking around, I feel awkward, having sat down beside Sniper rather than across from him. Any other assumed couples that came together sit across from each other, sending longing looks across the table and it makes me feel like I’ve made an even more intimate choice to sit at his side, shoulders pressed together lightly.

My cheeks begin to heat up and I attempt to hide the warm feeling inside me as I lean in to examine the menu. I’m just thinking too much into the whole thing.

I struggle to choose between two options, my eyes darting between the two. It’s always tempting to sample something new, but there’s always the fear of disliking it shadowing it. Sniper catches on to my inner debate and sets the sealed paper down to look at me.

“Ever ‘ad somethin’ loike it before?” I know which of the two he’s referring to and shake my head. Leaning back, I can see his eyelids fall shut in thought.

“Give it a burl then, Sheila.” The heat rises to my cheeks again at the small endearment he uses.

“Pardon?” The slang he uses is exuberant and compliments his accent beautifully, but I rarely understand it, despite spending a majority of my time around the Australian.

He chuckles and leans forwards, placing his hand on the seat. “Means ‘give it a try’, ya fruitloop.”

I smile sheepishly at the misunderstanding, but giggle at the name he chooses to tack on. “Then I will, ya bloke.” I tease him by mimicking his accent towards the end.

After ordering, I listen as Sniper goes on about how the current music’s saxist is nothing compared to him. All the while, he smiles brightly, offering to play for me later on and I return the expression, exclaiming that I would love nothing more than to listen to him play one last time.

The smile fades as the waitress places our meals in front of us. His tough guy facade raises again, as if he’s ashamed for showing his true self just then. He makes small talk between bites, avoiding another outbreak.

I finish eating first, waiting for him to do the same before speaking up.

“You don’t have to play tough around me, y’know.” I smile sympathetically in his direction, searching for his eyes behind the shades. He doesn’t return the smile and instead frowns at my words.

“I ain’t playin’ nothin’.”

I return the frown and lower my voice, not wanting any more attention than we’ve already gained. “It’s okay to be yourself, Mick,” I pause, realizing I’ve addressed him by his actual name. He turns away, staring across the table and over the opposite seat.

“I know you think the tough guy demeanor makes you ‘top of the line’, but I think it’s even sweeter when you just drop the act and be yourself.”

His features scrunch up for a moment before softening, “It’s not, I don’t, Jus’..” He struggles to find his words.

I place a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn to me. “It’s just my thoughts. I think you’re perfect no matter which way you choose to be ‘cause it’s the softie on the inside that counts.”

I smile once again before pulling the card of to-do’s out. It’s silent at the booth as I look over it.

Sniper’s soft, low tone startles me as I look up from the paper, “Jus’ thought you would go if I were always a defenseless bloke. ‘S not loike any a the bludgas at base care for who each a them are, so I didn’t think you would eitha.” He reaches up to remove his akubra and continues to stare the menu down.

I rack my brain for a moment, searching for the best response. Looking down at my card, I know exactly what to say.

“So, I was thinking we could cross another wish of my list. I’ve been meaning to do this one for a while and now seems like a good time to-”

He looks over to me, his expression more angered. “I jus’ opened to you like ya asked an-”

“I love you, Mick.”

He freezes, the irritated expression faltering. I smile nervously at him, eyebrows raised.

Before I can process what’s happening, he has his lips against mine sloppily, but softly.

He mutters softly as he pulls away a bit, “Shoulda said that from the start, Sheila.” His teeth show in a smirk as he grabs my hand and stands.

I stuff my card in my pocket with the other hand, exchanging it for a few bills on the table.

His newfound excitement is really showing. He guides me out of the seat and shuffles across to me, leaning back to grab his hat and replace it on his head.

“Got a place in moind for your bucket list,” he speaks as he leads me towards the exit.


End file.
